The Boy Who Lived~Part 1: The Beginning
by spoofacious
Summary: Post GOF: What would come has come, and the world must deal with it. But Harry Potter and co. have other things on their minds, besides saving the universe from the clutches of a homicidal maniac on the road to world domination. R&R or i'll hex you!


The Boy Who Lived ~ Part One: The start of the beginning

By: ~*spoof*~

Summary: Post GOF: What would come has come, and the world must deal with it. But Harry Potter and co. have other things on their minds, besides saving the universe from the clutches of a homicidal maniac on his way to world domination. --Is Voldemort having second thoughts? And what's happening with the Dursleys?

Author's Note: Hey y'all! Welcome to my first ever attempt at writing fiction! Yeah, it's got a crappy title. I know my sentences are a bit awkward (only a bit?) and my over-all writing kinda crappy, but _please _put up with me! I've got an interesting (if not twisted) plot up ahead. Now, I'm planning on making this pretty fluffy, with some dramatic bits. Sort of a balance, really. Romance is also going to play a pretty big role in this. I'm going to work with a lot of couplings in this, including h/h, h/r, h/d, and h/c (blech!) I think most shippers will be happy with how this turns out. Well, I'm probably boring you to death with all my ramblings, so I guess I'll stop now (yeah, right) Well, read on and bon appetite! (Don't ask)

P.S. Tommy Riddle refers to Voldemort. (Not his dad)

~*∞*~ 

Tommy Riddle looked up from his goblet of unicorn blood, his pitch-black bangs hanging limply over his brilliant green eyes. He liked to be called Tommy, no matter how many times he tried to deny it. It was what _she_ used to call him when they were young.

Several rays of light streamed down through the cracks in the high dungeon ceiling, radiating off his pale, tear-streaked face and the cold stone floor on which he sat.

Tommy still bore a considerable resemblance to the 16-year-old student Harry Potter had glimpsed two years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. No, no, that snake-like mutinous face, and blood-curdling red-eyes were just a façade he used to frighten his victims and followers. No one but _her_ had seen his true self for nearly 40 years. His face still held it's popular heart-melting, teen-aged features: the brilliant green eyes, those masculine cheekbones, and that dazzling, 100 watt, lop-sided grin that used to melt any girl within a 30 mile radius. He was truly a heartthrob.

With a strangled sigh, Tommy gazed back down at the indigo liquid, shimmering softly in the moonlight. He stared at it, contemplating the hue and texture of the delicately flowing blood, seemingly lost in it's glistening depths. That colour. That sparkle. Just like _her_ eyes, he thought. Over-come by a sudden rage, he stood abruptly, and through the crystal goblet at the dungeon wall. With an ear-piercing crash, it shattered into a billion pieces. 

"BLOODY HELL! I WILL NOT HAVE YOU HAUNTING ME LIKE THIS YOU TREACHEROUS BITCH!"

He collapsed against the wall and slid down into a crumpled heap, covering his eyes beneath long, delicate fingers, and proceeded to cry softly into his large hands. _'Why can't I just get over her?'_ he thought miserably. 

There was a tender knock at the door.

"M-master? A-are you alright?" asked a tentative voice on the other side.

"Can't you leave me in peace?" Tommy half-wailed, his voice laced with pure anguish. Wormtail was rather startled at his master's sudden emotional outburst, and gladly obeyed, muttering something about hallucinations and seeking mental help.

It didn't matter how many times his stupid followers advised against it, he'd **never** drink unicorn blood. It was inhumane to kill such an innocent creature. Tommy could never live with himself if he drank so much as a drop of it.

'_Then again,' _he thought sourly '_what do I have to lose?'_

He was torn from his silent reverie when his pet rattlesnake, Apollo, whom he'd found during his first year at Hogwarts, slithered into his lap. Tommy gazed absently down at his only friend. 

"What have I done?" he wailed in Parseltounge. 

"What have I _become_? 

~*∞*~

Two hundred miles away, the nearly 15-year-old Harry Potter woke with a start. He had been thrashing violently around in his sleep, and was now sitting bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting as though he had just run a marathon. Pale as a ghost he squinted fruitlessly in the dark, fumbling for the light switch, and sighing with relief as light flooded the dingy old room. 

'It was just a bad dream,' he silently reassured himself, heaving a great breath to calm his panting. '_Just a bloody nightmare.'_ Though he strived to forget the dream, his efforts were in vain, as it played over and over in his mind like so:

__

Harry Potter was walking down the halls of Hogwarts towards the Ravenclaw tower. He had finally gotten up the nerve to ask Cho out, and had proposed to confront her alone the first chance he got. However, Cho being the immensely popular girl she was, was most always surrounded by an array of friends and admirers, and was rarely seen without company. So, Harry had taken to stocking the poor girl. After nearly a week of adhering to her every move, he'd finally come across his chance when Cho had promptly excused herself from dinner. 

Harry was currently following her to the Ravenclaw common room, staying a safe distance behind as to not be noticed. Cho took a sharp turn to the right, and halted before a magnificent tapestry of a gorgeous young maiden with rosy cheeks, chestnut hair, and a stunning figure. She was dressed in fashionable magenta robes of the very finest silk (actually sewn into the tapestry) and was adorned with mounds of the world's rarest jewels. This, Harry guessed was Rowena Ravenclaw. Quite an equivalent to the fat lady! 

After gazing wistfully at the tapestry for a moment, he came to his senses and placed a shaking hand on Cho's shoulder. She let out a small squeal, ('Oh My Gawd! Johnny Goodman wants to speak to me_ in _private_!' Or so she thought.) before whirling around to face a very pink Harry._

"Hi Cho!" he barely squeaked out.

"Oh, it's only you." And Cho's giddy smile faded, and her expression changed to an interesting mixture of disappointment, annoyance, and slight disgust. 

In spite of Cho's rather blunt reply, Harry resolved to continue.

"D'you wanna go to -er- Hogsmeade with me this weekend…" he said this fairly quickly, using every ounce of willpower to keep from staring down at his shoelace.

Cho just stared at Harry as if he were a pile of dragon dung with an expression rivaling that of Mrs. Malfoy, and gave out a haughty laugh, before turning briskly on her heel and walking away with her nose in the air. 

"Sorry, I'm busy!" She called over her shoulder, with look clearly suggesting that there should be a decree against losers like him_, associating with the likes of _her_. _Then he'd woken up in a horrible state.

The look on Cho's face and her haughty laugh resounded over in his mind, becoming louder and more hideous until they paralleled those of Voldemort, and Harry was sure he had lost his mind. He shook himself out of his reverie, knowing he couldn't take it anymore. _This is stupid!_ He thought, _I've never let my fears get the better of me._

After a couple minutes of deep breathing, he managed to go back to sleep, only to be awoken by a shrill call belonging to no other than his dreaded aunt Petunia.

"Boy! Get down here! Breakfast didn't make itself!" (Harry was no longer allowed to cook meals, as he might sneak an extra portion for himself.)

"Oh Joy" he muttered, and pulled on a baggy green sweatshirt (courtesy of Dudley Dursley) and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He then walked over to his wall calendar and ticked off another miserable day. 

"Saturday July 17," he sighed "45 more stinkin' days till school."

Life at 4 Privet drive had become even more of a hellhole this year, thanks to Dudley. Last summer, a very proud and happy Mr. and Mrs. Dursley had seen Dudley off at the train to Smeltings. After countless tantrums, screaming matches, and plenty of bribing, Dudley had successfully lost the minimum amount of weight, and was somehow able to fit in his Knickerbockers. 

However, to maintain his on-the-brink poundage, Dudley still had to follow a diet, which was to be enforced by the school nurse. But the plan didn't fair very well, as Dudley's thugs -er- 'friends' would sneak leftovers from the kitchens for him every night. So, by the time Dudley arrived back at Privet Drive, he'd not only re-gained the little weight he'd lost over the summer, but was now 30 pounds fatter than he'd ever been! 

Taking drastic action, Harry's Aunt had cut everyone's portions in half – to the utter dismay of Vernon, Dudley, and Harry, and to the secret delight of anorexic Petunia. However, the three men of the house were not quite ready to give in to starvation, and each individually formed a plan to sneak food from the fridge in the wee hours of the morning. It went on surprisingly well for a while, and Dudley seemed to fatten by the day. This frustrated Petunia beyond belief, and she caught up in a sort of dieting frenzy, cutting meals whenever she could, almost starving herself to death. 

Unfortunately, the situation came to an end soon enough: One fateful night, Harry, Dudley, and Vernon each resolved to proceed down stairs for a midnight snack - at the same time. They ended up collided at the refrigerator door, collapsing in a tangled heap amidst a tidal wave yelps, moans, and a whole lot of cussing. All the commotion unsurprisingly awoke a fuming Aunt Petunia, who had finally figured out why dieting didn't work. 

As Harry didn't want to disturb his friends by sending for snacks this summer, he thought of a different solution. He decided to live off of the many Chocolate Frogs, Every-Flavor Beans, and Cauldron Cakes he had brought home from Hogsmeade. However, after a week of this, he felt so sick to his stomach, he thought he'd surely puke if he ever came across another piece of chocolate. So, for the past five days Harry had pretty much followed Aunt Petunia's concentration camp regime. And quite frankly, Harry was starving. 

"Hurry up boy! We're not going to wait for you!" Aunt Petunia's shrill screech pierced the tranquil atmosphere of Harry's little room. With an affectionate pat, he let Hedwig back in (after her early-morning hunt), and came thumping down the stairs like a wild buffalo, to one of Aunt Petunia's lectures.

"That boy is so ungrateful! We –"

"– feed him and clothe him and give him a place to sleep. I swear, after all we've done for him, you'd think the least he could do is obey us!" Harry finished in an overly exaggerated imitation of her high-pitched voice, having heard the speech countless times in the past. Luckily, Aunt Petunia chose to ignore her disgraceful nephew.

Harry glimpsed this morning's breakfast: half a celery stick. 

"Blech! I hate celery." He muttered, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Meal times at the Dursley's were even tenser ever since supper on Harry's third day at Privet Drive:

------------*a flash back thingy*---------------

There was a loud rapping at the door, and with a grunt, Uncle Vernon pushed back his chair and answered the door. Harry heard some bickering from the visitor and some angry grunting from his uncle, before the door was shut. He reckoned it was a pesky salesman of some sort. Vernon sat back down, red-faced and seething, and shot a funny look at Harry. _'Yup, definitely a salesman.' _

After several moments of unnatural silence, came the same annoying knock. With another grunt – this time louder, Uncle Vernon opened the front door. Again, the same bickering, but this time a pronounced "No! And don't come back!" and Vernon slammed the door in the person's face. Walking back to the table, he was now a rich plum colour and audibly fuming. No one dared so much as sneeze.

Yet another rap and Vernon went stamping up to the door, toppling his chair and greatly resembling a rampaging bull. He threw open the door and cried out "GO AWAY!" 

__

'Man, this guy's persistent!' Harry looked up to see who the Salesperson was and saw instead a very frazzled reporter wearing Periwinkle Wizard's Robes and a hat emblazoned with the words: _Daily Prophet_. There was some angry muttering from the other party, but just as Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut, the reporter caught sight of Harry's scar. The next moment, the front door was swept clean off of it's hinges, and in swarmed a horde of 50 or so reporters from various magical newspapers, magazines, and trashy tabloids. All crowded around Harry, furiously snapping pictures, scribbling on note pads, and flooding the poor boy with questions:

"Mr. Potter, could you describe in detail what exactly occurred after Mr. Diggory and yourself touched the cup–"

"Mr. Potter, do you in any way feel responsible for the death of Mr. Cedric Diggory–"

"Mr. Potter, could you release the names of any of the Death Eaters you saw–"

And then came the silly questions, which angered Harry the most:

"Mr. Potter, sources tell us that when called upon by their master, the Death Eaters apparate in pink halter-tops and mini-skirts, dancing to the Muggle Song: _"oops I did it again"_ Is this true–"

"Mr. Potter, has the fact that you-know-who is a trans-sexual changed what you think of him–"  


"Mr. Potter, is it true that you murdered Mr. Diggory in a fit of cold-blooded rage? If so, what compelled you to do it?

At first, Harry attempted to answer some of the _Daily Prophet_ reporters, but after hearing some of the more ridiculous queries, he felt insulted by how they were handling such a serious matter. Having had just about enough, Harry stood up on the table and bellowed over all the noise:

"I DID NOT KILL CEDRIC DIGGORY! AND GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! OUT, OUT, OUT! OR I _SWEAR _I'LL HEX THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!"

Realizing they had angered their host, the reporters snapped a few more pictures and filed out the front door.

------------*a flash back thingy*---------------

Halfway though his celery stick, Harry glanced up to see what looked like a gray ball of fluff fly in through the window. It zoomed about the kitchen for a while, unseen by the Dursleys. Then it dive-bombed for Dudley's abnormally large backside (which was hanging over the sides of his chair) and gave it an all-mighty peck, which sent him yelping under the kitchen table, hands clamped firmly over his buttocks. 

After that, pandemonium broke loose in the Dursley's kitchen, with Dudley cowering under the table, Aunt Petunia trying to comfort her poor 'duddykins' while shrieking at her husband to "Do something!", Uncle Vernon bellowing obscene words in response ("WHAT THE BLOODY HELL _IS_ THAT THING???"), the ball of fluff zooming about at breakneck speed, occasionally diving down to peck one of the Dursley's in the head, and in the middle of it all, Harry Potter rolling about on the kitchen floor amidst peals of hysteric laughter. What a sight!

However, among all the yelping, shrieking, and cussing, Harry was able to recognize the ball of fluff as none other than the infamous Pigwidgeon Weasley. The frenzy went on for a while, but after several minutes of unrestrained laughter, Harry managed to somewhat compose himself.

"C'mon Pig, let's see whatcha got there!" he yelled over the commotion.

Pigwidgeon followed Harry up to his room, where he untied the letter from the owl's leg and offered him some water. The letter read like this:

Hey Harry!

Guess what? YOU CAN COME!!! Mum and dad set up some stuff and they say it's safe for you to stay with us. Just -er- don't tell Dumbledore, okay? You're staying at the burrow for the rest of the summer. That's like 1 1/2 months! Bill and Charlie are coming again, and so is my cousin, Amanda. This is going to be so cool! Percy's still muttering like a madman about cauldron bottoms. I reckon he's pretty shaken up after the whole Barty Crouch fiasco, but he won't let it on. Fred and George re-opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. (Mum gave up on them.) But you won't believe this. Fred and George are freaking rich! They've got about 1000 galleons! They won't say where they got it, but I reckon they gambled. (And did a hell of a good job at it!) Charlie's resurrecting an extinct type of dragon or something of the sort, Ginny's still quite taken with you and Bill's got a new girlfriend! Anyways, we're going to pick you up on Sunday at 5 p.m. Whether the muggles like it or not! Can't wait till you're here! 

See you soon – Ron

Harry re-read the letter, then made a new mark on his calendar. '_No need to tell the Dursleys,'_ he thought. Harry was in such high spirits; he felt he was walking on air. _Man, this was going to be the best summer ever!_

~*∞*~

Author's Note 2: Thanks a bunch for reading! Now, please, please, please review. It's my first fic, and I would really like to know what you thought of it. No flames, but constructive critisism welcome. Please tell me how you like the font and formatting. Also, I could use really use some suggestions for a good title! :) luv y'all, buh-bye ~*spoof~

P.S. I'll just keep re-posting this until I get some reviews! (hint, hint)

Disclamer: Everyone, everything, everyplace, and every place belongs to J.K. Rowling. The Ravenclaw tower tapestry, Harry's twisted dream, Amanda, Harry's P.J.'s, and this plot all belong to me. Peace Out!

__


End file.
